


It Never Snows but it Rains

by Aris Merquoni (ArisTGD)



Category: Columbo
Genre: Case Fic, Gen, Mad Science, Minor Violence, Stealth Crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-03 00:59:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2832413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArisTGD/pseuds/Aris%20Merquoni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the head researcher at Eternal Pools cryogenics is found frozen to death in his own laboratory, Lt. Columbo and Sgt. Wilson have a hot case to unravel--if they can find all the clues before they go on ice!</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Never Snows but it Rains

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nemo_the_Everbeing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nemo_the_Everbeing/gifts).



> Title inspired by Dead Sara's song "Snow in Los Angeles." Thank you to my betas for your assistance and encouragement!

Alysia Poole pulled into her parking space just after eight in the morning and looked out over the lot. Saturday morning meant that most of the staff at Eternal Pools was gone, but she could see Dr. Meier's battered station wagon pulled into the space by the loading dock. She sat back in her seat for a moment, narrowing her eyes, then got out and headed to the main entrance.

She was a tall woman, kept her dark blonde hair in a plait to keep it out of her eyes, and dressed severely to keep people from underestimating her. Her heels clicked on the tile as she strode into the building.

The building's receptionist, Gertrude, was surprised to see her. "Good morning, Mrs. Poole. You're in early on a Saturday. Is everything all right?"

"Everything's fine, Gertrude," Alysia said, smiling. She turned and headed for the laboratories, showing her badge to the guard at the security station. "Hello, Tony."

"Good morning, Mrs. Poole."

She smiled at both of them and turned down the hallway, shoes echoing in the empty corridor.

The labs were down two flights of stairs. She always ignored the elevators, letting her fingers trail the ugly industrial railing in the gray industrial stairwell. This was the side of the building she didn't spent much time in; the part where Dr. Meier was supposed to be making his magic work.

The lab was a long room along the entire south side of the building. The pods were on one end, readouts blinking a mixture of green and yellow, and the lab was on the other, set apart by a plexiglass window. Dr. Meier was banging through books and sweeping bits and pieces into garbage bags. Alysia watched him for a full minute from the doorway before clearing her throat.

The doctor jerked his head around and stared at her. "You," he said.

"Benjamin," she said. Dr. Benjamin Meier was her age but looked ten years older, and he looked five years older today; his hair was frazzled and his eyes had bags under them as though he hadn't slept at all.

"What are you doing?" he asked her.

She laughed and gestured at the workspace he was engaged in destroying. "What do you mean, what am I doing? What are you doing?"

"You are making this... this presentation, to these men this week--"

"Men and women," she pointed out. "There are a number of wealthy women in Los Angeles county as well."

"And we have no successes!" He pointed at the pods behind the plexiglass. "These, these are... they are managed. They may be salvageable. But we have no successes to point at! You cannot ask people to go into those pods--"

"We have them all sign a waiver and a release," she pointed out calmly.

"I will not sign off on this." He stalked across the room and started pulling more books off his shelf. "I will leave. I will go to the police. I will do something, but I will not stay here."

Alysia frowned and looked around the room. Dr. Meier kept his workspace relatively organized. There were racks of petri dishes, refrigerated baths, and just by the door to the loading dock, a huge cylinder of liquid nitrogen.

"Well," she said. "I'm sorry that you feel that way." There were surgical gloves on the counter and she pulled a couple out of the box. "I didn't want to compromise you."

"You didn't want to compromise me. You only wanted to use me to get money out of gullible rich men and leave them for future generations to deal with."

"Mmm, close enough," she admitted, and stepped over to the liquid nitrogen tank.

"And I--what are you doing over there?" Dr. Meier asked, looking up and frowning at her.

Alysia smiled at him. "Just cooling off this argument."

The first blast of supercooled air and liquid hit him in the chest, freezing his breath and sending him staggering backwards. Alysia picked up the pot holder hanging next to the tank and used it to pick up the nozzle of the tank, pointing it down at Dr. Meier's face as he fell to his knees and then to his side. Shortly, he stopped thrashing and lay still, frozen into immobility.

She closed the tank and stared down at the frozen form at her feet. Then she opened her purse and dug down to the bottom until she found the small box at the bottom. It was wrapped, but she ripped the paper off and threw it on the floor, then opened the box to see the wristwatch that she might have presented to Dr. Meier, if he'd just been a little more cooperative.

She turned the dial to 8:30 and carefully buckled it on his wrist. Then she picked up the nozzle for the liquid nitrogen again and opened the flue enough to blast the watch with freezing liquid.

Then she hung the potholder back on the hook, dropped the box for the watch, and turned to leave. The liquid nitrogen pooled over the floor and evaporated into pearly clouds around her heels as she closed the door behind her.

She dropped the gloves into a wastebasket and headed back up the stairs to her office, where she picked up a few files from her desk and checked the clock. 8:18. The whole scene in the basement had taken less than twenty minutes. She took a deep breath and headed back to the front desk.

"Just had to find something," she said, waving the file folders at Gertrude. "I think I still have time to make that conference call at nine from home instead of taking it here."

Gertrude checked the clock. "You've got plenty of time, Mrs. Poole," she said. "Have a nice weekend."

"I'll have a nice weekend when this presentation is over," she said, and headed back out the door.

* * *

Sergeant Wilson had been in the lab for half an hour when Lt. Columbo stepped through the door. "Be careful, sir," he cautioned the detective. "The floors are still a little slippery."

Columbo had stopped a step into the laboratory and was staring down at the corpse on the floor. After a moment he lifted his head and met Wilson's eyes. "This is a hell of a thing," he said.

"Yes, sir."

"It's a hell of a thing. All my years on the police force, I've never seen anything like this."

"No, sir."

Wilson waited. Columbo turned to peer at the corpse again.

The man was curled on the floor and covered in condensation. He'd been slowly unfreezing, though the air in the lab was still cold.

"Sir, what appears to have happened," Wilson started explaining when Columbo didn't say anything else, "Is Dr. Meier opened the liquid nitrogen tank to use some in a procedure when he was splashed with the cold liquid and overcome by shock. He then fell to the ground and was unable to close the tank, which continued to release liquid nitrogen until it was empty."

"We have a time of death on this one?"

"Well, sir, the deceased was wearing a watch which froze at 8:30."

"Eight thirty in the morning," Columbo mused. "And what was he working on again?"

"Uh," Wilson flipped back through his notebook. "He was working on cryogenic freezing, but all the details are trade secrets and we're not allowed to have them."

"Hunh," Columbo said. He peered down at the watch. "Can I take a look at this?"

"Of course, sir. We've already got the photographs."

Columbo fished his handkerchief out of his pocket and used it to hold the watch face while he pulled the band open. The watch slipped off the man's wrist and Columbo held it up to his face.

Wilson cleared his throat. "I appreciate you coming down here, sir, but I really don't think that we can assume homicide in this situation. It was a gruesome accident, but it was an accident--"

"See, that's strange to me," Columbo said. "That this watch came off him so easily. Look at this. Brass finish, solid case, very nice watch. Didn't get stuck to his skin at all."

"Uh," Wilson said. "No, sir."

"You ever get your tongue stuck on a lamp post, Sergeant?"

"No, sir," Wilson said. "I... don't think it gets cold enough down here."

"When metal gets cold," Columbo said, "It sticks to warm skin. This metal didn't stick. That implies that the skin under it was cold."

Wilson frowned. "What do you mean, sir?"

"If the skin under the watch was cold when the cold metal touched it, that implies that the watch was put on him after he was dead," Columbo said. "And if the watch was put on him after he was dead, that implies that someone wanted us to find the watch frozen at eight-thirty in the morning."

"... Which means that someone wanted an alibi," Wilson reluctantly said.

"Mmmm," Columbo said. "Who was in the building this morning?"

"Some of the security staff, and the front desk secretary," Wilson said, flipping through his notebook again. "And the company owner and CEO, Alysia Poole, came in briefly, but that was just to visit her office."

"Uh-hunh," Columbo said. "Well, I'd like to talk to all of them."

"Yes, sir," Wilson said. "I'll get you those addresses. Oh, and good to be working with you again, sir."

Columbo looked slightly startled, but nodded. "Yes, sergeant. Oh, do you think you can find me some cough drops?"

Wilson stared at him. "Cough drops, sir?"

"Yeah, it's just this tickle in my throat, I don't want it to turn into a cold. You know what, never mind, I'm sure I've got some somewhere."

"All right," Wilson said, judiciously making a note in his notebook anyway. "Uh, we'll finish up here, sir? Unless there's something else you need to look at?"

"No, don't mind me," Columbo said, waving and heading out the door.

* * *

Alysia opened the door on the second knock and stared at the man outside. "Yes?"

"Mrs. Poole?" The man was a few inches shorter than she was, squinting in the light, hair and incongruous overcoat both rumpled as though he'd tumbled out of his car. In fact, when she looked behind him to the driveway and spotted what he'd driven up in, she didn't think he needed to tumble out at all--riding in it would be enough to shake up any laundry.

He was still waiting politely for her response, so she cleared her throat. "Yes, I'm Alysia Poole. And you are?"

"I hate to bother you at lunch on a Saturday, but they said at your office that you'd already been in this morning. I hope it's not too much trouble."

"I'm sorry, Mr..."

"Lieutenant Columbo, LAPD."

Alysia's mouth opened slightly in surprise. "Oh?"

"Yes, ma'am. I'm afraid that there's been a death over at your company. A Dr. Meier. I'd like to ask you a couple of questions if you don't mind."

Alysia groped for the door frame, then took a deep breath and opened the door. "Of course, detective. Why don't you come in?"

"Thank you ma'am. This'll only take a moment. I just have a couple of routine questions."

She led him through the foyer and into the front sitting room. The detective shuffled through the door and looked around with his hands in his pockets, then pulled out a cigar. "Do you have an ashtray around here?"

"Oh..." she pulled one off the sideboard and put it on the table. "Here, lieutenant. Now, can you tell me what this is all about?"

"Of course I can. I--say, you know, this is a really lovely house you have here, Mrs. Poole. Uh, is there a Mr. Poole?"

"There was," she said. "My husband died seven years ago in a car crash."

Lt. Columbo looked startled and slightly chagrined. "Oh, please forgive me, ma'am. I didn't mean to bring up a sensitive subject."

She waved it off. "It's been seven years, detective. And the money from his life insurance allowed me to build the company that was always our dream."

"Oh it did, did it." Columbo squinted again and looked around the room. "Do you have a lighter?"

Alysia took a breath and picked the crystal lighter off the sideboard and handed it to the detective.

"Thank you, ma'am." He lit his cigar and set the lighter next to the ashtray.

Alysia watched him smoke for a few seconds, then prompted, "Detective, you said that Dr. Meier was dead."

"Oh yes, ma'am." Columbo took his cigar out of his mouth. "I'm sorry to let you know like this. He was found in his laboratory frozen with liquid nitrogen."

"Oh, how horrible." She watched the tip of his cigar. "Has anyone told his family?"

"Yes, ma'am, we've contacted his sister. She's out of town, she'll be back in a few days, we'll coordinate things with her no problem. The only thing is we're just trying to figure out what happened."

She frowned slightly. "I thought you said he was frozen with liquid nitrogen."

"Yes, ma'am, but we're trying to rule out any possibility of foul play."

"Foul play?" She stared at him. "So you don't think it was an accident?"

"Well, we're not entirely sure about that." He put his cigar in his mouth and pulled a notebook out of his pocket. "You see, one of the other technicians told us that the nozzle of the liquid nitrogen tank gets very cold when it's turned on. That's why there's a potholder on the wall."

"Yes?" she asked. "And?"

"Well, ma'am, if he'd been using the liquid nitrogen himself, he would have been holding that potholder, to hold the nozzle," Columbo said. "But when we found that potholder it was hung up on the wall."

Alysia stared at him for a long moment, then smiled widely. "Is that all? Well, it's perfectly obvious. He must have been using his lab coat as insulation for his hands and not intending to use much liquid nitrogen at all. You see, the nozzle only gets cold if you need a lot of liquid nitrogen and have to leave it on for a long time."

"Uh-huh," Columbo said. "You see, I didn't know that."

"Well, of course you couldn't," she said reassuringly. "Was there anything else?"

"Ah, yes, ma'am, the watch," he said. "He was wearing a wristwatch which was set to eight-thirty when it froze."

She nodded. "So that establishes the time of death."

"Not necessarily," Columbo said. "See, the thing about the wristwatch was that it didn't stick. See, cold metal sticks to warm skin, and this watch didn't stick."

"But that's simple," she said. "Cold metal sticks to warm skin, but his skin was cold."

"Yes, ma'am, his skin was cold," Columbo said. "But... ma'am, do you have a cough drop?"

Alysia started. "A... sorry, lieutenant?"

"A cough drop. It's just I've got this tickle in my throat, my wife says it's because I'm smoking too much, but I was thinking I might be coming down with some kind of summer cold, and I was just wondering if you had any cough drops."

Alysia looked around her sitting room, slightly bewildered. "Why... no, I can get you some water with lemon juice, if you'd like."

"Oh, no, thank you, ma'am, I'll be all right. Thank you very much, though."

She waited for a few seconds while Columbo took a puff on his cigar, then prompted, "You were saying about Dr. Meier's skin?"

"Oh, yes, ma'am, thank you, that was the thing. If his wrist were hit with liquid nitrogen, the watch would have cooled down first since it was metal, do you know what I'm saying?"

She shook her head. "That's... that makes sense. Unless," she said, "Unless he was doing some other kind of work that cooled his skin off. We work with several kinds of topical anesthetics that cause cooling of the skin. It's possible he got some of that on his skin and didn't notice it."

Columbo nodded and jotted another note in his book. "That's very interesting. Topical anesthetic. That's very interesting. I wouldn't have thought of that at all, ma'am, you're being very helpful."

"I'm so glad I can help, detective," Alysia said, her shoulders relaxing. "I'm sorry I didn't offer sooner--can I get you anything to drink? Coffee, punch, wine?"

"Ah, no thank you, ma'am, I'm fine," the detective said, still jotting down notes. "I really didn't have that many more questions--do you know if Dr. Meier had any enemies? Anyone who would have wanted to do him harm?"

"Why, no," Alysia said. "I can't imagine anyone wanting to hurt him. He kept to himself and was a very hard worker."

"And how did you yourself get along with him?"

Alysia shook her head thoughtfully. "He was integral to the success of our company. You see, cryogenic suspension--our business--is a very tricky proposition. There haven't been many successful revivals. Dr. Meier was working on the preservation of human tissue through the freezing process and he was making huge successes."

"That's very interesting, ma'am." Columbo made another note in his book. "Was he scheduled to speak at this presentation you were giving?"

She stared at him. "I beg your pardon?"

"Oh, it's just something the receptionist said, something about a big customer presentation," Columbo said, gesturing with his pencil. He took his cigar out of his mouth and shrugged. "Just something I thought of, maybe he had something to present that people inside the company wouldn't have wanted him to say."

Alysia frowned. "Dr. Meier was one of the most forthright and honest men I ever met. I can't imagine him doing anything that would harm the company without talking to me first."

"Ah-hah," Columbo said. "Well, that's very good of him. Did he come to you with concerns before this?"

"He always came to me with all of his concerns, detective."

"Well that's very good," Columbo said. He tucked his cigar back into his mouth and closed up his notebook. "That's very good, it's always good to hear of employees who can go to their boss with their concerns. You know my boss, he always listens to me when I have a concern about a case, when I think they're pushing someone too hard, and I think that's so important. I don't want to take up any more of your time."

Alysia took a deep breath. "That's very good of you, detective. And if you have any more questions, just let me know."

"Thank you, Mrs. Poole." Columbo waved at her with his cigar and then showed himself back out to the foyer.

Alysia picked up the ashtray from the table and was contemplating smashing it on the ground when she heard from behind her, "Oh, Mrs. Poole, just one more thing--"

She swiftly turned and smiled at the detective. "Yes?"

"Just one question," he said, gesturing with an open palm. "I just wondered what you and Dr. Meier talked about this morning."

Her face froze. "Beg pardon?"

"Well, you went down to the office this morning, I guess I just thought that you and he must have talked."

Alyse took a deep breath and said firmly, "I didn't have time to see him. I had to get some files from my office for a conference call. I wasn't even aware he was there."

"Oh that's all right then, thank you ma'am," the detective said. "And thank you very much for your time."

Alysia didn't set the ashtray down again until she heard the front door close solidly behind the detective.

* * *

Monday morning, Columbo showed up to Eternal Pools shortly before the planned presentation. The foyer of the building was crowded with men and women in expensive outfits and their personal assistants, with young women in white outfits with name tags served drinks off trays and handed out green badges. Detective Columbo managed to corner one of the waitresses and asked, "Pardon me, miss?"

"Yes, sir?" She turned to smile at him, straight blonde hair framing her face. "How can I help you?"

Columbo paused for a moment and smiled. "That's a lovely accent you have there, miss..."

"Jones." She smiled at him again. "Thank you. I'm from London."

"That's very lovely. I visited London once. Lovely city. My name is Detective Columbo, I'm here on an investigation, and I was wondering if you could help me, you see, I wanted to talk to Mrs. Poole."

"I'm afraid Mrs. Poole is busy at the moment," Miss Jones said, "But I'm sure you can ask her after the presentation. Do you have a badge?"

"You want to see my badge?"

Jones laughed. "No, sorry, not that badge. I mean one of these." She pulled a green badge out of her pocket and clipped it to his lapel. "There, now you're part of the group and you can go right in."

"Well, thank you very much, miss," Columbo said. "That's very helpful of you. Do you happen to know what's going to happen at this presentation?"

She smiled at him sheepishly. "No, I'm afraid I don't. I haven't been working here very long; they just needed some extra hands for this job." She caught someone waving for another champagne cocktail and hoisted her tray. "Excuse me."

The party slowly traveled down a wide hallway and into a large conference room, where the lights had been dimmed to allow a projector to shine a full-screen image of the Eternal Pools logo on the wall. Columbo snagged a seat in the back as the rest of the guests took seats at the conference table or against the wall. After a few minutes, Mrs. Poole herself strode in, not a hair out of place, and stopped next to the projected image. "Welcome to Eternal Pools," she said. "My name is Alysia Poole, and I'm here to tell you about the future."

The image disappeared, and a movie started playing. It started with images of horse-drawn carriages, then showed the progression of motor cars from rattling turn-of-the-century contraptions to the sleek modern cars of the day. Images of world-war era hospitals were replaced with up-to-date surgeries. "In all fields of science and technology," Mrs. Poole intoned, "We have made immense strides over the last few decades. Possibilities we couldn't even have dreamed of are now a reality. We have cures for diseases, the ability to travel anywhere in the world, and conveniences to bring us everything we want."

She smiled benevolently as the images suddenly became fantastical, showing rocket flights, spacecraft, beaming space-age beauties serving coffee in zero gravity. "And the future will only become more and more impressive. Imagine. Laser surgery. Rocket travel for the holidays. It sounds impossible now, but we are on the brink of so much discovery. Our lives are longer and better than our predecessors, and it's because of entrepreneurs and leaders like yourselves that they are that way."

The lights came up as the movie ended. Alysia gestured at her guests. "In the future, medicine will advance to the point where there will be no sickness, no pain... and no old age. There will be an infinite capacity for luxury. And there will be new challenges that will require unique leadership that has already been tested and proven itself. In short, the future will be made for people like you. So why take the risk that accident or illness will keep you from seeing that future?"

She walked over to the easel that her team had prepared and pulled the cloth off the presentation. A huge poster with the Eternal Pools logo and a diagram of one of their cryogenic chambers was revealed, to the general murmurs of interest of the room. "Eternal Pools means security," Alysia said. "In a process much like falling asleep, we lower you into your own personal pod, and keep you here in our facility. Teams of scientists will see to your every minimal physical need, suspending you in perfect safety and health until the future we have all dreamed of is here. Then you will wake, fresh and ready to lead and to receive all that the future has to offer."

"All we ask," she said, smiling, "Is the cost of upkeep for the facility. The rest of your possessions will be waiting for you when you awaken. Your money will be managed how you see fit, to present you with all the compounded interest you will need to take stock of yourself when you reach that glorious destination."

"Will you be taking a sleep in the Eternal Pools yourself?" one of the men at the table asked.

Alysia smiled gently. "My dream is to make yours a reality," she said modestly. "Perhaps once the operation is self-sustaining and I start to feel my own pangs of aging, I'll indulge myself. But for now I'm sustained by the knowledge that we have the ability."

"How safe is it?" One of the women asked. "Has anyone died?"

Now Alysia frowned, but courageously. "We started our experiments on men and women who were very sick but had dedicated themselves to the advancement of science," she admitted. "Several of them were in quite advanced stages of cancer, and on revival their systems were unable to handle the shock. But we are assured that we have one specimen who was put into suspension in perfect health and woke quite easily, with only slight disorientation. And in the future, of course, we will continue improving the technique, so even very sick men and women can find their cures on awaking."

She looked around the room and smiled. "Any other questions?"

Columbo raised his hand and stood. "I just have one question, Mrs. Poole."

Alysia's face froze. "Ah... yes. Detective Columbo. I don't recall seeing you on the guest list."

"Oh, I'm sorry, ma'am, one of the girls downstairs let me in, she just told me to come on up if I wanted to talk to you." He looked around and sheepishly smiled. "Oh, I'm sorry, maybe I shouldn't be asking this in front of all your fancy guests, here, I'm only a detective with the LAPD homicide division, I'm not a business leader or anything..."

"No, please, feel free to ask," Alysia said. "We welcome questions from everyone. Of course, this service is at the moment well above what you could comfortably afford on your salary, I'm sure, but for one of your family, someday..."

"No, ma'am, that's not what I was curious about," Columbo said. "I was just wondering who was taking over the technical side of the project with the death of Dr. Meier, that's all."

Alysia's smile was fixed on her face, but her gaze could have cut rocks. "We have several other scientists who have been assisting Dr. Meier on the project," she said calmly. "We will probably promote from within the department, unless we find someone truly visionary to hire on to take his place. Surely you understand that the project must go on without him."

"Yes, ma'am," Columbo said. There were a few murmurs going around the conference table. "That's all I was wondering. Say, did you ever figure out who went to talk to Dr. Meier before he died?"

Alysia's smile cracked infinitesimally. "I beg your pardon?"

"It's just that my assistant, Sergeant Wilson--wonderful mind for detail, Wilson, going to make a heck of a detective someday--he found something in a notebook that Dr. Meier had that he was planning on speaking to someone about the process on Saturday morning, and we were thinking that if we knew who this person was, we might have a suspect for the murder investigation."

Alysia laced her fingers together as the murmuring increased. "Please, Lieutenant Columbo, this was a very tragic incident but there's no sense in dwelling on it. It has nothing to do with the future of Eternal Pools."

"If your researcher is dead--murdered--" said the woman who had been asking about safety.

"Eternal Pools guarantees that our technology is ready for use," Alysia said firmly. "We have continual improvements to make, but we are ready."

"Well, if you don't mind, ma'am," Columbo said as the murmuring started again, "I'd like to go look in Dr. Meier's office to see if he had an appointment book or something where he might have written down who he was going to talk to."

"Of course, lieutenant," Poole said. "I'll have someone show you the way."

"Oh, I know the way down there, Mrs. Poole, thank you," Columbo said. He gave her a wave and headed out the door toward the stairs.

Inwardly seething, Alysia worked on comforting her potential clients, deflecting questions or answering them as she saw fit. At the first opportunity, she excused herself to the front desk to see Gertrude. "Who let that detective into the meeting?"

Gertrude gaped like a fish. "I don't know, Mrs. Poole. All the girls had their orders, we were very on top of things--"

"It was one of the new girls," Bethany said, pointing at one of the hired waitresses who was busy gathering up half-empty champagne glasses. "That one, I saw her talking to him."

Alysia stalked over to the girl and backed her into the corner. "Who are you?" she demanded, and when the girl opened her mouth, cut her off with, "Never mind. Do you know who I am?"

The girl cleared her throat and said, "You're Mrs. Poole. One of the girls pointed you out."

"Yes, I'm Alysia Poole. And I own the place. And you," she pointed sharply in case the girl was missing her point, "You just cost me several months of work. Wasted. I want you to leave, now. Turn in your uniform and tag. You will not be paid for your abysmal work, and you're lucky I don't sue the skirt off you. Go!"

The girl darted away like a frightened mouse down the hallway to the changing room. Alysia watched her go with a satisfied smirk on her face, then sighed and went to try and salvage her presentation.

* * *

Sergeant Wilson was already in the laboratory when Columbo got down the stairs. "We haven't found anything, sir," Wilson said. "No date books, just a lot of chemistry. There were a bunch of books and files which had been stuffed into a bag, we're still sorting through those."

Columbo pursed his lips and nodded at the table full of files. "No address books," he repeated. "No day planners, no calendar."

"No, sir," Wilson said, unsure what else to say.

Columbo patted his pockets for a moment, pulled out a cigar. "You got a cough drop, sergeant?"

"Oh, yes, sir," Wilson said, turning out his pockets and pulling out the small packet. "I have these, which are lemon, though they also have cherry which I can get if you like cherry better."

"Oh, oh, I didn't mean to put you out," Columbo said, putting the cigar back in his pocket and picking up one of the wax-wrapped lozenges. "It's just my wife, she thinks this sore throat is from smoking too much, I think it's a cold, either way if I have one of these to suck on I'll be smoking less, you know what I'm saying?"

"That makes sense, sir," Wilson said. When Columbo didn't seem interested in the rest of the cough drops, he put them back in his pocket. "Sir... are we really sure this wasn't just a tragic accident?"

"Hm?" Columbo looked up from his examination of the mostly-empty desk. "Oh, yes, sergeant, this was murder."

"But..." Wilson looked around the lab. "Who would have wanted to kill Dr. Meier?"

Columbo slowly tilted his head. "Alysia Poole had opportunity. Alysia Poole had the means. Alysia Poole... does not, yet, have a motive."

Wilson frowned. "Well, sir, she was still out of the building ten minutes before the watch stopped, establishing the time of death."

"Assume the watch was tampered with," Columbo said. "There are enough surgical gloves that the murderer could do it without leaving fingerprints. So we have no established time of death, and she has opportunity."

"All right, and assume she could open the tank of liquid nitrogen, but why? He was the reason her company was successful. It was his work on the cryogenic freezing process that gave them a product."

Columbo nodded slowly and clicked the cough drop against his teeth. "She said today that the process was ready," he said. "So Dr. Meier's work becomes unnecessary."

"Well, sir," Wilson said incredulously, "You can't launch something like this without your experts on board. They're talking about freezing people, like something out of Larry Niven. What if something goes wrong?"

"What if something goes wrong?" Columbo echoed. Then he frowned. "You said all his papers, all his files were in a bag?"

"Yes, sir."

"And he parked his car, where did he park his car?"

Wilson frowned. "By the loading dock."

Columbo pointed to the steel door outside the lab. "That loading dock?"

"Yes, sir."

"But he came in the front door, didn't he? It's Saturday, nobody's around, why park your car by the loading dock if you have to come in and out the front door?"

Wilson shrugged. "Maybe he liked the exercise."

"Maybe he's going to put something in the car," Columbo said. "Maybe he's going to put something in the car he doesn't want to take by the front desk."

"So... he's selling out the company?" Wilson frowned. "He's taking his research somewhere else? Why would he--is that worth killing for? She could just sue."

Columbo paced back and forth and stopped at the pile of files. "What if something goes wrong," he repeated. "What if something goes wrong. What if something goes wrong?"

"Ahh..." Wilson frowned. "I don't know, sir, what if something goes wrong?"

"Upstairs. She said that they pay for the upkeep of the facility. These guys, they go in the tanks and pay for the maintenance, and the rest of their money goes in a mutual fund or a bank account and they have it when they wake up. But what if something goes wrong?"

"I... don't know, sir," Wilson said. "I suppose they'd be liable for any promises they've broken. It depends on the wording of the contract."

Columbo clapped his hands together sharply. "The contract. Yes." He looked around the room. "Did you see any copies of the contract anywhere?"

"No, sir." Wilson looked down at the piles of paper on the lab bench, where they'd been sorting through them. "We've only found lab notes."

"Well, maybe he hid a copy somewhere."

"If he did, I sure haven't seen it," Wilson said.

"Well, let me know if you find anything, sergeant, thank you very much." Columbo clapped his hands again and went out the door.

* * *

Alysia Poole sat in her office, staring down at a report she wasn't reading and twisting her hands together. She barely registered the knock on her door until it repeated. "Yes?"

"Mrs. Poole? I'm sorry to disturb you, may I come in?" Lieutenant Columbo asked through the door.

She put her hands on her desk, flat, and took a deep breath. "Yes, please, lieutenant. Have you found something?"

Columbo opened the door and stepped inside. He still looked sheepish, though his cigar was nowhere to be found. "No, ma'am, we haven't found anything to point definitively to anyone who would have had a motive for his murder," he said. "In fact, some people have floated the idea of an opportunistic killing--someone breaking in to steal something, some expensive lab equipment, maybe--and just killing him because he was there."

"Well, that sounds very logical to me," Poole said. "I don't know if we have any security camera footage from that area, but you're welcome to look at what we do have."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, "Your security guard explained that they have cameras by the loading dock, but they're pointed far enough away that they don't catch right up against the wall, so someone might be able to sneak in that way. And the cameras on the hallways inside don't record to video, just the ones at the front desk, is that right?"

"That's right, lieutenant," she said. "We're hoping to expand our videotaping system, but for now it's just the front desk, and just for twenty-four hours in case we have to review."

"Yes, well, that's unfortunate, but you couldn't have known something like this was going to happen. Mind if I sit down?"

Alysia gestured at the seat across her desk. "Please."

"Thank you, ma'am." Columbo sat, sweeping his coat around him, then patted his pockets and pulled out his notebook. "Now, were you aware of any documents that Dr. Meier might have had access to?"

She frowned. "Documents? You mean like his lab notes?"

"No, ma'am, I mean like company internal documents like those contracts you're offering to those clients of yours," Columbo said. "You see, we've been going through his papers, and sometimes in the margins of his notes he's written something about 'the file' or 'the document', but we can't find whatever document he's talking about. It appears to be real important to him."

Alysia took a calming breath. "No, lieutenant, he never said anything to me about anything like that. I have no idea what he could be talking about."

"Hmm." Columbo mulled that over for a moment, then asked, "Because I think we've found--excuse me, I'm sorry, do you think I could have a glass of water? The sergeant, he gave me a cough drop but it's lemon flavored, it's real sour, I could really use some water to clear the taste out of my mouth."

"I..." Poole shook her head. "No, I'm afraid I don't have anything in my office, I can show you to the cafeteria if you'd like. Now what is it you think you've found?"

"Well, we think we've found evidence that this document exists somewhere in his notes, but we're not entirely sure what we're looking for. Now, if you could help us--"

"I'm really very sorry, lieutenant," Poole said, standing. "But I'm afraid I can't help you. If you can't find this secret document amongst his things, then I don't think I could do any better. Are your men still working downstairs?"

"Oh, they're just packing things up, ma'am, they'll be back tomorrow," Columbo said, holding up his hands and then pushing himself to his feet. "We'll keep going through all that paperwork until we find it."

Alysia nodded. "Good. Hopefully it will shed some light on either Dr. Meier's surprise visitor or otherwise clear up this investigation. We don't need this dragging on."

"No, ma'am, we don't. I never like a long investigation. Anyway, I'd better head back to the station, tell my captain everything that's been going on, reassure him that we're still working. You know what bosses are like--well, I guess maybe not, since you're the boss here, I'm sure you do an excellent job with that."

"Thank you, lieutenant." She smiled at him. "Would you like me to show you to the cafeteria for that glass of water?"

"Oh, no, ma'am, I'll just get some coffee at the station, thanks," Columbo said, backing himself over to the door. "Once again, thank you for all your help. I'll let you know as soon as we find anything."

"I'm sure you will," she said.

He nodded affably and took himself out the door.

Alysia's smile dropped as soon as the door closed. She reached out and paged the receptionist. "Gertrude? Let me know when the police have left."

"Yes, Mrs. Poole."

Alysia paced, she drummed her fingers on her desk, she crumpled sheets of paper into spheres and threw them into the wastepaper basket. Finally Gertrude paged her and announced, "The police have gone, Mrs. Poole."

"Thank you, Gertrude. Make sure that when they return tomorrow they have everything they need."

"Yes, Mrs. Poole."

Alysia stood up straighter, clenched her fists for a moment to ground herself, then walked to the door. Outside, the hallways were empty. She turned down the hall to the staircase, deliberately pacing down the metal steps into the basement.

As she passed a maintenance locker, she banged on the door once. "As for you," she snapped, "Once we've gotten what we need from you, consider Dr. Meier a warning."

She listened, but there wasn't a reply. Frowning, she continued down the hallway toward Meier's lab.

The bag full of papers that Meier had been frantically working to take with him had been organized by the police into several neat stacks. They had made it through about half of Meier's possessions, according to the notes. Alysia ignored those papers and went to the filing cabinet at the end of the lab, where Meier hadn't reached before she interrupted him.

Meier had his own key, of course, which had been taken by the police as evidence, but she also had a key, and she opened the filing cabinet and started rummaging through the folders inside. Most of them were design specifications, trade secrets, desperately important matters just a few days ago but laughable now.

It was jammed into the back that she found it. The copy of the contract he'd taken--and a handwritten note, with a date, and the words "Poole's solution" written at the top.

All the lights in the lab suddenly slammed on.

Alysia spun around to see Lieutenant Columbo in the doorway, with his sergeant, a beat policeman... and another figure who she had last seen locked in a closet. "Mrs. Alysia Poole?" Columbo said. "You're under arrest for the murder of Dr. Benjamin Meier. Also, we found Dr. Meier's mystery guest. He says you bonked him on the head and stuck him in a closet, so we're booking you for assault and kidnapping, too."

Alysia could only gape as they all filed in. And there, there was that stupid girl who had let Columbo in to the meeting--and there was a third man with them, blonde, and hadn't he been at the meeting as well?

"Adam, are you all right?" the girl asked, pressing a handkerchief to the back of the dark-haired man's skull.

"My constitution has recovered, dear girl, if not my emotions," the man said. "As for this woman..."

"I don't know how you can accuse me of murder," Alysia snapped. "My lawyers will see about this assault charge, I was attacked, this man has a sword--"

"We've talked with him about the concealed weapon, ma'am," Columbo said. "But the more important thing here is that contract your holding. Or rather, what isn't in that contract you're holding."

Poole drew herself up to her full height. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Columbo pulled a cigar out of his pocket. "There's nothing in that contract that requires you to notify the next-of-kin if something goes wrong with the cryogenic suspension, is there."

Poole stared at him. Columbo raised his cigar to his mouth, only to be stopped as Sergeant Wilson offered him a cough drop. "Oh, thank you, sergeant," he said, and tucked his cigar back in his pocket. "You see, here's the problem I had. You had the means and the opportunity. But why kill Dr. Meier? You needed him in order to make sure your patients survived the freezing process, didn't you?" He unwrapped the lozenge and popped in in his mouth, sucking noisily, then turned a sad look on her. "Unless... they didn't need to survive the freezing process."

Alysia looked down at the contract and the note in her hand and seethed.

"And you told him," Columbo said. "He'd invited the only man in the world to survive a cryogenic freeze--him--" Columbo pointed at Adam. "And he was going to do tests on him to make this thing work. And you let slip that it didn't have to work. You just had to get these guys in the door, paying for your service, and they could keep paying through eternity while you just..." he shrugged. "Let 'em thaw."

"A truly monstrous scheme, milady," Adam said in a genteel, upper-crust English accent belied by the scowl on his face. "I'm only glad we stumbled on it in time to keep it from coming to fruition."

"You knew he was going to take his suspicions to the police," Columbo continued. "So you killed him. And you put that watch on him to give yourself an alibi."

For one moment, Alysia stood defiantly and looked almost as though she were preparing to fight her way out. Then she folded in on herself. "I'll go quietly," she murmured.

"I hoped you would, ma'am," Columbo said. "Thank you."


End file.
